- Vol. 05
Those bony and scrawny fingertips scrubbing and scouring every single piece of dust and soot nestled between my toes and puny soles imbues me with the moonlight sheen and the milky smell I was born with
You slowly and surely scrub my anger, pain and hurt away to let in dissolve in that turbid water when the plethora of emotions are birthing every second in your mind as you fervently look for the scars, small scratches, you might have overlooked
As gently as the seraphic touch on my nimble body which you have sculpted and nourished every bit of it you dissolve every pain in the small bowl you wash me in
For every other soul it is a mundane task but for me, when you touch me with your fecund fingertips it baptizes me and renders my soul pure
Your touch, my mother, renders me pure.